


What the Prank Led To

by puss_nd_boots



Category: D-OUT (Band), 己龍 | Kiryuu
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 10:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puss_nd_boots/pseuds/puss_nd_boots
Summary: Mahiro is an aristocrat who’s never questioned any of his family’s traditions – including arranged marriage. And then, someone uses him as part of a prank, and it leads to him meeting someone who could change his life forever.





	What the Prank Led To

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the April challenge at vkyaoi, where the primary theme is jokes and pranks and the secondary theme is bands who debuted in the ‘90s. (Neither is the main theme of the story here, but both place an important role). Since both D=OUT and Kiryu are descendants of Kagrra, in a way, that seemed to be the appropriate ‘90s-vintage act to use. D=OUT is property of Speed Disk, Kiryu is property of B.P. Records, Kagrra, was property of PS Company, I own the story only.

The nation of Visual was an island off the coast of Japan – it had once been a part of its neighbor, but it eventually broke apart and struck off on its own. Nobody really was sure what the cause of the Great Independence was – some say it was a tax dispute, others that the nobility of Visual thought they weren’t represented well enough in the Japanese government. Whatever it was, the schism occurred, and Visual developed its own system of government and traditions.

Granted, in some ways, it didn’t differ from Japan itself that much. There was an in-name-only Emperor and an elected Parliament. There were matsuri on holidays and Kentucky Fried Chicken on Christmas. There were even karaoke and pachinko joints dotting the landscape everywhere.

But in one very big respect, it was different, and that was the nobility class.

The nobles had held their titles for years and weren’t about to give them up – not even with the most serious of fights. They believed very strongly that they were the elite, the ruling class. The Parliament answered to them – their money and influence helped many of the politicians get elected in the first place. They owned most of the nation’s biggest corporations and had a hand in its broadcasting, as well.

Oh, and they wanted to make damn sure that nobles only married other nobles. God forbid their pure bloodlines be tainted by commoners – or, worse, that they not mate at all. Hence, they still practiced arranged marriage.

Kurosaki Mahiro was born into such a family. The Clan of Isshi, in fact – descended from one of the most respected nobles in the nation’s history. He accepted from the beginning that it was his lot in life to be with the young lady that his family chose for him – and, indeed, they did choose a woman of “good family,” named Nobunaga Tokiko. He was betrothed to her in a formal ceremony when they both turned 16, with the understanding that they would make it legal when they were both adults.

Never mind that he sometimes found his head turned by other men. He’d notice a guy’s beauty, the way he carried himself, a sparkling personality. He pushed those feelings down and away. They were unworthy of a man of his breeding, his station in life – a member of the Clan of Isshi.

He dated Tokiko on a regular basis, taking her to plays and movies and even going to sing karaoke together. He did enjoy spending time with her – although he questioned whether what he felt for her was truly “love.”

“That’s a ridiculous question to be asking yourself,” his father told him. “You grow to be fond of someone over the years. We were betrothed when we were young just like you, and we couldn’t imagine being with anyone but each other. Your feelings for Tokiko will come in time.”

And so, he went on believing that it was, indeed, the case, and that true love for her would magically appear someday, and his feelings for other men would magically vanish.

Until, that is, the day that someone decided to play a prank.

* * *

He found the note shoved into his mailbox one day. No formal stamped and addressed envelope, mind you, just a folded piece of paper with writing on it.

Mahiro stood in front of his family’s manor, frowning. The manor was big enough that he had his own wing, and, indeed, his own mailbox. Whoever did this definitely knew where he, specifically, lived.

Unfolding the paper, he read, “ATTENTION KUROSAKI MAHIRO! Did you know Tokiko was cheating on you? She’s been seen all over town with one of the Hanamizakura boys! BEWARE!”

Mahiro blinked. Cheating? Tokiko cheating? It didn’t seem possible. She’d always been, well, loyal. To the extreme, really. Indeed, she was the very epitome of the modest upper-class maiden – refined and dignified.

One of the family’s manservants approached him. “Mahiro-sama? You look troubled – is anything wrong?”

Mahiro frowned. “Yamigawa-san, what can you tell me about the Hanamizakura family? I’ve heard my parents mention them, but I don’t remember exactly how.”

“Oh – them.” The other man’s voice fairly dripped contempt. “False aristocrats, that bunch. Their great-grandfather was a man who was common as dirt who married a noble woman. She had no brothers, so when her father passed on, his title and lands went to her husband. Her family was reluctant to do so, I might add. Now, they move in high circles – but everyone knows they’re of low blood.”

“And they have sons?”

“Three of them,” the manservant said. “Kouki, Ruiza and Subaru. Oldest to youngest. They’re what might be called, at charitable best, party boys – although most people have much harsher names for them.”

“Where might I find them?” Mahiro said. “I have reason to speak with them. Good reason.”

“Oh, you can find them hanging out at izakaya,” the manservant said. “That is, if they’re not in dance clubs, or” – he paused and shuddered – “riding motorcycles.”

“I’m going to look.” Mahiro turned on his heel and headed out to the street. Izakaya? He knew the first one he was going to try – a rather pretentious, faux-upscale place in the entertainment district downtown. A little money slipped to the bartender would get the boys in question pointed out to him quite nicely, if they were there.

Whatever this is about, he thought, I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

As it turned out, his perception was accurate. As soon as he entered the bar and slipped the bartender some cash, the man talked right away.

“Kouki’s over there, at that table,” he said. “He’s in here all the time. Nicest fellow you ever want to meet. He’s genuinely happy with life – unlike most of you aristocrats. No offense.”

Mahiro was across the room like a shot. Sure enough, the man in question was finishing up a beer and a plate of gyoza. And he was, well . . .

Gorgeous. Totally gorgeous. Enough to stop Mahiro in his tracks.

Well, crap, he thought. That’s my alleged rival? That’s the lowlife, would-be aristocrat? He’s, well . . .

And then, he took a deep breath. Get ahold of yourself, Mahiro, he thought. If this is your rival, he has to be dealt with, right?

He stormed over to the table. “You’re Hanamizakura Kouki, are you not?”

“Well, yes,” he said. “And you’re . . .”

“The fiancé of Nobunaga Tokiko,” he said. “And I’ve been her fiancé for years.”

“Well, congratulations and good for you,” Kouki said. “But what’s that got to do with me?”

“Plenty!” Mahiro snapped. “You’ve been with her, haven’t you?”

“I’ve met her at a few parties,” Kouki said. “But that’s about it. Really.”

“Then how do you explain THIS?” Mahiro snapped the piece of paper open in front of the other man’s nose. He watched as Kouki scanned it, quietly fuming at him for being so damn gorgeous.

Then, Kouki laughed. “Oh, my God,” he said. “This is good. Too good. This may be his best one yet.”

“What are you talking about?” Mahiro was suddenly very irritated.

“Sit down,” Kouki said. “You’re standing there looking like you’re about to have a stroke. It’s not healthy.”

“I look that way for good reason!” Mahiro said. “I told you, she’s my fiancée!”

“By choice?” Kouki said. “Or by family obligation?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mahiro snapped.

“I know your type,” Kouki said. “You’re a Kurosaki, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Mahiro said. “What of it?”

“And you let your family hook you up with her? No questions asked?”

“It’s not my place to ask questions!” Mahiro said. “Unless, of course, it comes to someone telling me she’s cheating on me. Then it’s my place to ask a LOT of them. And you STILL haven’t answered the question I asked before. How do you explain that note?”

“My friend, Reika,” Kouki said. “He and I have kind of a prank war going. I planted rubber bugs where he could find them. He hid people in the next room when I crashed at his place and made me think the walls were talking. Stuff like that. Hey, we have fun. Which is something that YOU could use more of in your life.”

“Excuse me?” Mahiro said. “What makes you think I never have fun? I have plenty of fun! I take my fiancée out all the time! We go to concerts and parties and . . .”

“And do you enjoy them? I mean, REALLY enjoy them?”

“Well, I’m not bored, at least.”

“The trouble with you so-called top-level aristocrats,” Kouki said, leaning over toward Mahiro, “is you have FORGOTTEN how to have fun - if you ever knew in the first place. Reika and I have a long-standing gag that aristocrats have gotten so cold that they crap ice cubes.”

“I do NOT do anything like that!” Mahiro said. “And I’m not taking life advice from someone who rides around on a motorcycle!”

“Have you ever BEEN on a motorcycle?” Kouki said. 

“No.”

“Even seen one up close?”

“No, of course not!” Mahiro was getting annoyed. What was this guy on about?

“Maybe you should,” Kouki said. “Meet me back here at this time tomorrow and I’ll give you a ride.”

“Are you SERIOUS?” Mahiro thought his head was going to pop off. Motorcycle? Him? Really? He’d never even CONSIDERED such a thing! Why was this guy suggesting it?

And furthermore . . . why was he even considering it? Was it because of the devilish twinkle in the man’s eyes? The way his thick, blond hair framed his gorgeous face? The way he was driving Mahiro nuts, and Mahiro freaking hated it?

“Of course, I’m serious,” Kouki said. “And that, precisely, is your problem. You’re TOO serious. Let me show you a good time for a little while. One ride, okay? Just ONE ride, and we’ll see how you like it.”

“Just ONE,” Mahiro said. “And I mean it.”

“Won’t force you to do anything else,” Kouki said. “See you tomorrow?”

“Fine,” Mahiro said, walking out of the izakaya. As he turned toward home, he became acutely aware that he was trembling, his heart was pounding . . . hell, he was even feeling a bit dizzy.

Damn that guy, he thought. What the hell effect is he having on me? Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

* * *

He arrived at the appointed time and place the next day, still questioning his sanity. There’s still time, he thought. I could back out of this and run now. Nobody needs to know I was . . .

There was a loud roar behind him. He turned around to see a shiny chrome two-wheeler pull up next to him, and the driver pulled off his helmet to reveal the grinning visage of Kouki.

Too late. There was no escape now.

“Hey,” Kouki said, grabbing another helmet out of a saddlebag and tossing it in Mahiro’s direction. “Get on!”

Mahiro caught the thrown object and looked at it as if it were an alien specimen. “How?”

“What do you mean, how? Put this on your head, climb on behind me and hold onto me around the waist. It’s easy as hell!”

Mahiro gingerly put the helmet on. Hold onto his waist? That meant he was going to be pressed up against this man, super close to him and embracing him . . .

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Kouki said. “Come on, you have to LIVE a little! Or at least try to!”

Mahiro set his jaw. He was NOT going to chicken out and embarrass himself in front of this guy. I can do this, he thought. I can ride with him on this motorcycle, AND not have certain body parts betray my feelings about being close to him.

He shoved the helmet over his hair, threw his leg over the back of the bike and settled in back of Kouki, and instantly, he became aware of his warmth and alluring scent – a bit of wood, a bit of smoke, some sort of Indian spice . . .

So much for keeping my feelings under control, he thought.

“And here we go!” Kouki roared off into traffic, leaning to the left, and Mahiro let out a strangled little sound, thinking he was about to tumble off. His arms tightened around the other man’s waist, and dammit, he was even closer to him, and his heart was starting to pound, and why the HELL was he doing this in the first place? If he had a brain in his head, he’d be home right now.

“We’re going to get out of the city, first of all,” Kouki said. He leaned over again to make the bike turn, to the right this time, and Mahiro let out another small sound, feeling like he was going to go flying. Just keep hanging on, he thought. If you as much as loosen your grip, you’re a dead man. It won’t do Tokiko any good to have a dead fiancé.

There was a turn, and another one, and Mahiro turned his head to the right and the left, watching the city rush by him. What an odd sensation, looking out at the world directly, instead of through panes of auto glass. He was completely exposed to the elements, the wind whipping all around him, instead of being safely surrounded by walls of steel.

It was a bit terrifying. It was also a bit exciting. A lot exciting, in fact.

A few more turns, and they were out of the city center, heading down a little-traveled road through the suburbs. “And now, the fun part,” Kouki called out. “We’re going on this little path that nobody knows about . . .”

He headed for a little dirt road, and suddenly, they were riding through a clearing in a forest – one of those wooded areas at the back of every suburb that everyone has seen but nobody has explored. Well, now they were exploring it.

“Nice, huh?” Kouki said. “And now – high gear!”

He suddenly kicked the motorcycle into maximum speed mode, throttling it hard, and Mahiro was really clinging now, praying he didn’t fall off, making his breathing shallow. The trees were a green blur around him, the wind flying all around his body so fast it was like being in the middle of a hurricane, and he seemed to be trembling at the very edge of disaster – and loving every second of it.

It was as amazing as it was terrifying. He was feeling on edge, and ALIVE – so very, very alive.

Eventually, Kouki slowed down, gradually, until he could bring the bike to a stop.

“And here we are,” he said, turning the engine off.

Mahiro slowly relaxed his grip around Kouki’s waist, clambering off the seat and looking around him. There was nothing but more trees. “Where is here?” he said.

“Just a clearing,” Kouki said, reaching into another saddlebag. “Does it really matter where it is? It’s just a nice, quiet, peaceful spot.”

“It’s kind of . . . nowhere, isn’t it?”

“Nothing wrong with nowhere.” Kouki spread a blanket on the ground and put two bentos, a bottle of sake and glasses on top of it. “Why do we have to be somewhere all the time? Sometimes, it’s best to just be among stillness.”

“You brought a picnic?” Mahiro said, looking at the food.

“Of course,” Kouki said. “We have time to relax and enjoy ourselves, right? Sit.”

Mahiro gingerly settled on the blanket. “This isn’t something I’m used to,” he said. “Casual picnics, I mean.”

“That’s because you have too much formality in your life,” Kouki said. “You need more spontaneity.” He opened the bottle and poured some in Mahiro’s glass, waiting for Mahiro to reciprocate.

“How can you live the way you do?” Mahiro said, taking the bottle and pouring out a drink for his companion. “You’re an aristocrat, too. Okay, a lot of people consider your family fake aristocrats, but still.”

“Being high-born doesn’t make us any less human, does it?” Kouki said. “We’re all made of the same stuff, whether we’re born in a mansion or a shack. Take away the fancy clothes and the expensive jewelry, we nobles are just flesh and blood. We’re like anyone else – we’re finite beings. All the money in the world can’t stop time. So, why not enjoy life while you can?”

“And your brothers?” Mahiro said. “Are they like you, too?”

“We all enjoy ourselves,” Kouki said. “Ruiza even does deejay stints in clubs. We don’t need the money, it’s just something he wants to do.” He paused. “And why do you think that you can’t enjoy yourself?”

“Because I’m of the line of Isshi,” Mahiro said. “I have to live up to his legacy and his memory. It would be dishonorable if I didn’t.”

“Really?” Kouki said. “You have to live your life emulating a man who lived years and years ago? Isn’t that kind of counterproductive? Why not live for today?”

“What does that get you?” Mahiro said. He took a sip of his sake. He had to admit, Kouki had very good taste. The drink was mellow and soft in character, filling him with a pleasant warmth.

“Happiness,” Kouki said. “Satisfaction. Experiences that can’t be traded for money.”

“And in my case, it could get you disowned,” Mahiro said. “I’d have to work for a living. I mean, really work, not just serve in one of my family’s companies.”

“So, you’d have to work,” Kouki said. “Doesn’t mean you’d have to be a black suit. You could find something you enjoy doing – like Ruiza’s deejay thing. And then, after work, you’d have time for play. You’d get to do what YOU want, not what society says you want.”

“That’s a flip attitude toward life,” Mahiro said. “What about all the people who work dead-end jobs just to make ends meet? They don’t get to do something they want.”

“At the end, they’re still going home to families they love, aren’t they?” Kouki said. “Isn’t it better to know there’s people you CHOSE in your life, instead of someone your family chose for you?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Mahiro said, quickly and sharply. Why did what Kouki just said hit such a sore spot for him? He might not have chosen Tokiko himself, but he still loved having her in his life – right? She was very much a part of him – wasn’t she?

“All right,” Kouki said. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

“This.” Mahiro pointed to the motorcycle. “How did you learn to ride this thing?”

“Practice, of course,” Kouki said. “I wanted to do it, so I did it.” He paused. “Are you interested in taking it up yourself?”

“No!” Mahiro said, quickly.

“But you did enjoy the ride, right?”

Mahiro paused. He did. There was no denying that at all. Slowly, he nodded his head.

“Good for you,” Kouki said. He held his glass out in a toast. “Here’s to taking your first step into a wider world!”

Mahiro clinked his glass against Kouki’s. “Kampaii,” he said. Wider world? Hardly. He’d just ridden a motorcycle – right?

But as he downed his drink and reached for his bento, he somehow found himself feeling lighter than he ever had before.

* * *

The first pinks of twilight were showing in the sky when the bike stopped in front of the izakaya again. Mahiro got off, slowly, and handed the helmet back to Kouki.

“Thank you,” he said. “I enjoyed that a lot more than I thought I would.”

“And that’s as much as I expected you to enjoy it,” Kouki said. Indeed, they’d had a lovely picnic, talking about their families and childhoods and favorite restaurants, before they started home.

“I . . . I do need to be getting home,” Mahiro said. “Tokiko is expecting me tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Kouki said. “Meet up same time, same place tomorrow?”

“For another motorcycle ride?”

“Possibly. Or possibly something else. I’m showing you how to live, remember? And there’s an awful lot of life to discover.”

“I’ll be here.” And Mahiro meant it. The more he agreed to Kouki’s suggestions, the more he surprised himself.

He turned and walked away, feeling like he was just about walking on air. He never could remember having felt quite like that before.

* * *

Of course, he was back at the same place, same time the next day. He couldn’t help it. He was flat-out compelled.

When he had gone out with Tokiko the night before, he tried to stay focused on her, and how delightful she was, and how much she brought to his life. Instead, he was remembering the day with Kouki, again and again and again.

She was talking about her friends, he was thinking of the sensation of holding onto Kouki’s waist, wind rushing past him. She was remembering something funny that happened when she was a child, he was thinking of how Kouki looked sipping his sake.

Dammit, he thought, what’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be returning to that one afternoon over and over. I have a wonderful fiancé and a great future ahead of me – right?

But the next day, his first thought of the morning was he was going to be seeing Kouki again. And he was down at that damn izakaya even before the designated time.

“You’re back,” Kouki said. “Good. We’ve got a great day ahead of us.”

“You’ve got it planned out already?” Mahiro said.

“Of course. Come this way.”

Mahiro followed Kouki on foot into the crowds, ducking and dodging through people, turning a corner, then another corner. “You have a way of getting under someone’s skin very quickly, don’t you?” he said.

“Under your skin?” Kouki sounded amused. “You make it sound like I’m a disease.”

“Maybe you are,” Mahiro murmured. Kouki had certainly invaded his life very quickly and thrown it into disarray, the way an illness would.

“Nope,” Kouki said. “I like to think I’m a bit more pleasant than that. Though I also like to think that I’m contagious. I like the idea I’m able to make other people feel as happy as I do.”

“You can’t always be happy,” Mahiro said as they turned yet another corner. “Nobody is!”

“That’s true,” Kouki said. “But I’m happy more than I’m not -which I’d say is a pretty good average, right?”

They arrived at a small park. Kouki led the way to the side, where there was a blacktop area. Mahiro looked to the right, then the left, and instantly realized what this was.

“Is this some kind of a joke?” he said.

“Why?” Kouki said. “Do you find it funny?”

“This is a basketball court!” Mahiro snapped. “I can’t play basketball!”

“Why not?”

“You have eyes!” Mahiro said. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You mean, because you’re short?” Kouki said. “Why should that stop you from having fun?”

“You’re a beanpole! And I’m . . .” He paused. “The opposite. You’d kill me in a game!”

“Who said anything about a game? We’re just casually shooting hoops.” He went to the side of the court, where there was a rack of balls for people who wanted to play. “Like this.” He dribbled his way to the basket, paused, and sank a perfect shot. “See?”

“Easy for you to do!” Mahiro said.

“How do you know you can’t do it, too?”

“I told you, I’m . . .”

“Holding yourself back because of preconceived notions,” Kouki said. “Who says you can’t sink a shot if you’re short? Just try it.” He bounced the ball over to Mahiro.

The aristocrat sighed, bounced the ball a few times, and then hoisted it. How did you even do this? He’d never tried because, well . . . of his height, or lack thereof. Taking a deep breath, he held the ball the way he’d seen Kouki do and threw it. It bounced off the rim and rolled away. “See?”

“Try again,” Kouki said. “Except, let me show you the correct stance.” He stood behind Mahiro, leaning against him – and Mahiro felt a sudden jolt.

“What’s that for?”

“Like I said, I just want to show you the proper position.”

Great. That was NOT helping the thoughts running through Mahiro’s head one bit. He gritted his teeth as Kouki’s hands ran along his arms, moving them into the right position.

“See, hold it above your head, like this . . . and your legs should be apart, like this . . .” He nudged Mahiro, getting him into the proper stance. Mahiro could feel the man’s crotch pressed against him, and he was feeling warm all over . . .

“Now, shoot,” Kouki said. “Just relax, and push it up and out with everything you’ve got.”

Mahiro took a deep breath, did what Kouki requested . . . and the ball shot up into the air and swished into the net. He found himself staring at the results, wide-eyed.

“Did . . . did I just do that?”

“You did,” Kouki said. “See? The only limitations are what you put on yourself. You let go of them? You can do anything.”

Mahiro turned and looked at him. “Kouki?” he said. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you never did it for yourself,” Kouki said.

Mahiro picked up the ball, bounced it a few times, and took the stance Kouki showed him again. He took a deep breath and fired. It bounced off the rim and rolled back to him. He grabbed it, determined to sink another basket.

Adjust your shot, he thought. Aim a little higher.

He fired again, and it went in.

Well, damn, he thought. I can do it! I’m as capable of making a basket as a tall person is! And suddenly, pride swelled within him. He really had overcome a limitation that others had put on him, just because of what he seemingly was.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s shoot hoops.”

* * *

They played until they were both exhausted, at which point they went to a nearby conbini for onigiri and Pocari Sweat, which they took to a bench. They sat and talked for awhile, enjoying the relaxation and each other’s company.

“What we just did here,” Mahiro said, “it was something I didn’t think I could do.”

“But you wanted to do it? In your heart of hearts?”

“Well, yes.”

“What else have you really wanted to do, but couldn’t?”

Oh, there was definitely one thing. Mahiro couldn’t tell him about it, though. It was the thing that had burned inside him since he hit puberty, since he knew the thing was there . . .

“I can’t talk about it,” he said. “Not right now, at least.”

“Fair enough,” Kouki said. “When you’re ready.” He looked over at him. “Tomorrow, I think . . . karaoke.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’ve always been serious. There will be nobody in the room but the two of us and a microphone. It will be fun.” He smiled at Mahiro. “You give me the impression that there’s a hidden diva inside you.”

“In me?”

“You found out today that you don’t know until you try, right? So give it a try.”

Mahiro sighed. “You know that I will,” he said. I just can’t help it when it comes to you, he thought.

He knew that his life had just taken a detour from the safe, predictable trail it was on before. Where it was going to lead from here, though, remained to be seen.

* * *

Day after day, Mahiro met with Kouki, and Kouki led him through some new experience that he’d never even considered trying before.

Karaoke – at which Mahiro had, indeed, released his inner diva – was followed by bowling, and then Dance Dance Revolution at an arcade, and then a rollerblade park – where Mahiro wobbled all over the place, but out of sheer determination, managed to stay upright. They even spent an afternoon in a funky fashion district, which featured the kind of clothes that Mahiro never dreamed of wearing before, but he found out that he looked very good in black leather with leopard print.

After the main activity, they’d sit and talk and share experiences. Mahiro was starting to feel more and more comfortable with Kouki. There was just something about the man that pulled out the best in everyone around him. He truly was a happy person – he was quick to point out that his name meant “happy tree,” and it suited him. He was as thrilled with life itself as he was tall.

The more time he spent with Kouki, the less he was enjoying his time with Tokiko. He was beginning to feel like it was an obligation to be with her, not a pleasure. This Kouki thing is just a phase I’m passing through, he thought. I’m just sowing my wild oats. When that’s done? I’ll be the kind of husband she needs and deserves, and I’ll grow to love her, like my parents grew to love each other.

She did notice, however, that he seemed distracted. “Mahiro?” she said one night. “Is . . . is anything wrong? You seem like you’re somewhere else lately.”

“No,” he said, quickly. “No, nothing’s wrong. Well, feeling a bit under the weather . . . allergies, you know. Antihistamines make me spacy.”

“Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want any problems cropping up before our Final Commitment ceremony.”

“We . . . we’re doing that?” Mahiro said. For couples of their standing, Final Commitment was an ultimate betrothal ceremony that sealed the engagement for good. Once it was completed, there was no turning back – the wedding would be held a year and a day from that date. They were, at that point, as good as married.

“My father announced the date this morning,” she said. “It’s a month from today, in fact.” She took his hand in hers. “I’m looking forward to beginning our life together,” she said.

“Me . . . me, too,” Mahiro said.

Oh, crap, he thought. One month from now, I’ll be sealed to her for good. I’ll be expected to be with her nearly round the clock. There will be no more Kouki, no more explorations, no more fun . . .

He knew he had to tell his friend the one thing he’d been holding back from him, the one thing he had always most wanted to do, before it was too late.

* * *

They had gone to an amusement park, ridden a roller coaster and crashed into each other with bumper cars. Now they were in a bar nearby, relaxing over beers.

“Kouki,” Mahiro said. “I . . . I need to tell you something.”

“Sure,” Kouki said. “You always can, believe me.”

“Remember that I said I couldn’t say the one thing I’ve always most wanted to do, because I wasn’t ready? I’m . . . I’m ready now.”

“All right,” Kouki said. “And remember, whatever it is, I’ll listen, and I won’t judge.”

“I . . .” Mahiro swallowed and looked around. Was anyone listening? Could he do this? He looked Kouki straight in the eye and said, “I’ve always wanted to know firsthand what pleasure was like between two men.”

Kouki didn’t look amused. In fact, there was a warmth in his eyes – like he’d been expecting to hear this all along.

He leaned over and took Mahiro’s hand in his. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he said. “Nothing at all. In fact, it’s very natural.”

“I just . . . I’ve got this forced betrothal, and I’ve never been expected to feel anything for anyone but her, and . . .”

“Mahiro . . .” Kouki reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from his friend’s face. “Are you attracted to me?”

Mahiro swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Do you trust me to give you that experience?”

Mahiro nodded in the affirmative, unable to speak.

“If you can get away this coming weekend,” Kouki said, “I have a friend who travels a lot on business. He’ll be gone then. He’s given me permission to use his apartment as a bachelor pad. We’ll go there then, and explore to your heart’s content.”

Mahiro’s heart was thudding in his ears. “Kouki . . .”

“I was kind of hoping you’d say something like that, you know,” Kouki said. “You’re damn hot. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some fantasies of you naked under me.”

That made Mahiro’s entire body shudder. “Oh . . . oh, God, Kouki . . .”

“You’ll get what you want.” He squeezed Mahiro’s hand. “I’ll let you know the time and place we should meet.”

When they parted that day, they paused in front of the izakaya – and then ducked into an alley, wrapping their arms around each other and bringing their lips together. Mahiro found himself kissing Kouki with a hunger he’d never felt for Tokiko. It was warm, and wet, and their tongues rubbing together sent waves of fire coursing through his body.

This is passion, he thought. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

He moved closer to the other man, plundering his mouth, breathing him in, and he knew he was hardening, both from what was going to happen in the future and what was happening now.

Kouki eased away from him, slowly. “Not yet,” he said, breathlessly. “An alley isn’t a good place for your first time.”

Mahiro nodded, knowing he was panting loudly and trembling head to foot.

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” he said, and then he was gone.

Mahiro leaned against the wall for a long time before he was able to walk home, and then it was on wobbly legs.

I’m finally going to do it, he thought. I’m going to have what I’ve always craved, what I’ve pushed down inside me for so long.

And he was going to have it with the only man he could now see himself being with in the entire world.

* * *

It was an easy thing for Mahiro to tell his family and Tokiko that he was taking a weekend to visit an old friend who’d moved across the country. He’d done that before, nobody would question it.

At the appointed time, he went to the address Kouki had given him – an apartment in the funky clothing district, as it turned out. Sixth floor, he read off the paper, apartment 603. He walked up to it, his heart in his mouth, and rapped on the door.

Kouki answered, wearing nothing but a yukata. “Hi,” he said. “So nice to see you.”

Mahiro shut the door behind him and quickly leaned in for a kiss, deepening it quickly, pulling Kouki in, pushing his tongue in and out of his mouth. When he pulled back, Kouki smiled.

“That’s what I call a greeting,” he said. “And the weekend’s only going to get batter from here. Go in the bathroom – second door to the right. There’s one of these in there for you. And then . . . go across the hall. I’ll be waiting.”

He knew very well what “across the hall” meant – the master bedroom. His heart was thundering. Oh, God, it was going to happen, oh, God, oh, God . . .”

In the bathroom, he shed every stitch of clothes rapidly, tying the robe on. He moved across the hall, and his eyes were greeted by . . .

Candles. There were candles everywhere, on the nightstand, on the bureau, on a little table. They illuminated everything in a soft glow – the burgundy quilted comforter on the queen-sized bed, the mirror that was placed on the wall by the bed’s foot, and, of course, the man sitting there, who’d never looked more beautiful than he did in flickering shadows.

“Come join me,” Kouki said, holding a hand out to Mahiro. Mahiro did, sitting next to the other man, gingerly . . .

And then, Kouki pulled him in for a kiss, and he was aware of nothing but heat and that warm scent.

He held him closer, opening his lips, eagerly pushing his tongue forward and moaning as he felt Kouki respond. He pressed his body against his new lover’s, very much aware of an electric anticipation running through every bit of him . . .

And Kouki was responding just as eagerly, kissing Mahiro with hunger, sliding his fingers under the top of the yukata so he could touch bare skin. Has he wanted this as badly as I have? Mahiro thought. One of his hands started to slide downward over Kouki’s chest and stomach, until he reached the tie of the robe – at which point, he froze.

Kouki leaned back from Mahiro. “Go ahead,” he said. “Undo it. I know you want to.”

“I . . .”

“It’s okay. Just let go . . . do whatever you want.”

Mahiro quickly unfastened the tie, and pushed the garment down and off Kouki’s arms and shoulders. His breath caught in his throat. He was . . . beautiful. Even more so than Mahiro had dreamed of. He pushed it further down, until his lover’s entire chest and stomach was exposed . . .

Kouki wriggled out of the yukata and tossed it on the floor, and now, Mahiro could see all of him. His eyes slowly traveled from the shoulders down to the nipples, and the flat stomach, and . . .

He sucked in his breath when he saw the hardening organ in front of him. Oh. God. He was so damn big. Not to mention gorgeous. Just the sight of it was making him hot all over.

Mahiro had slept with his fiancée from time to time – not all that often, they wanted to save “constant bunny sex” until after they were married. He couldn’t remember being anywhere near as aroused as he was in this moment.

He untied his own robe and pulled it off, because he needed to be naked right now, dammit, and he brought his mouth to Kouki’s again in a hot, fierce kiss . . . while his hand slid down quickly and grasped his new lover’s cock.

It was beyond amazing. Just the feel of hardness under his fingers, getting even more stiff and hot as he started to stroke, his fingers running around and around it, circling the tip before dipping down, his palm rubbing along the shaft. . .

He heard Kouki moan in appreciation, and it made him stroke him faster, wrapping his fingers around it and moving them up and down, rubbing his thumb over the tip on the upstroke. And then Kouki was doing the same thing to him, grasping his erection, rubbing it, and the firm caress of a man was so much more exciting than his fiancée’s hand had ever been.

“Show me what feels good to you,” Kouki murmured against Mahiro’s lips. “How you like to touch yourself.”

Mahiro guided Kouki’s fingers to a spot near the base, right near where it joined his body, and Kouki wrapped his fingers around it, rubbing and stroking. Mahiro leaned his head back, letting out a long, low, primal sound . . . oh, yes, this wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced, not solo, not with the woman he was supposed to marry. It was like Kouki knew automatically how hard to press, how fast to move his fingers.

He felt Kouki’s other hand guide his fingers to a spot right under the head of his lover’s erection, and Mahiro began to stroke it quickly, hearing Kouki moan louder and murmur, “Fuck, that feels so good . . .” He increased the speed and intensity of what he was doing, even as he felt Kouki do the same, and Mahiro knew he was panting loudly, moaning, his hips thrusting forward, pushing into the other man’s hand . . .

A sudden twist of Kouki’s hand, and Mahiro cried out, his body shaking with the most intense ecstasy he had ever felt as come poured and poured from him. He kept stroking Kouki, hearing his new lover’s breathing getting more and more ragged, his moans more intense . . .

As Mahiro’s final shudders faded, Kouki let out an ecstatic shout, and Mahiro felt hot wetness on his fingers, his eyes glued to his new lover’s face as he trembled in bliss. When it was over, they collapsed to the mattress together, kissing, and Mahiro brought the hand to his face, tentatively licking at the come. It was sharp and a bit bitter – and the most exciting thing he’d ever tasted.

Kouki pulled Mahiro close, planting a kiss on his shoulder. “How was that?” he said, still breathless.

“Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. I think I came too fast.”

“This is only the beginning,” Kouki said. “We have the whole weekend, remember.” He kissed Mahiro’s lips. “That really was the first time you’ve touched a man – other than yourself, of course?”

“Really and truly.”

“Damn, you’re a natural,” Kouki said. “I came so hard I thought my head was going to pop off.” He stroked Mahiro’s hair. “Here – there’s baby wipes next to the bed. Use them to wipe your hand off. Just one of the things we keep within reach.”

“You’ve been with a lot of guys?” Mahiro reached for the cited items.

“Well, sort of,” Kouki said. “I have a rather laid-back attitude toward love and sex. If there’s feelings involved, great. If not, and we’re both okay with it? That’s okay, too. I’ve had quite a few casual flings.” He kissed Mahiro’s shoulder again. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with a guy as beautiful as you, though.”

“You mean it?”

“Oh, yes. When you pulled that robe off, my cock instantly got twice as hard. You’re a wet dream. Except you’re not a dream right now, you’re reality.”

“You’re beautiful, too,” Mahiro said. “Your body . . . I couldn’t take my eyes off you. And I was thinking about . . .”

“About what?” Kouki said, mischievously.

“Doing this.” Mahiro leaned over Kouki’s chest, bringing his lips to one of Kouki’s nipples. He kissed it, softly, then flicked his tongue over the bud.

“Mmm,” Kouki said. “Glad you put your thoughts into action.”

Mahiro lowered his head again, taking it in his lips and sucking, pulling back to lick back and forth over it, then all around. God, his body was starting to feel warm again. How was that possible after such an intense orgasm? But he could feel a tingling in his thighs once more, and his cock was responding.

He moved his head to the other nipple, kissing it, then licking, feeling Kouki’s fingers tangle in his hair. “Oh, yes,” he moaned, and Mahiro found himself straddling Kouki, lying atop him, pressing their cocks together.

Kouki was getting hard again, too, and Mahiro began to move his hips, grinding against him, feeling himself start to grow more erect as they rubbed and caressed. He felt Kouki shift a bit under him, as if he were reaching for the nighttable, and then, he felt his lover’s hands on his ass, squeezing it hard as Mahiro thrust more rapidly.

They were both fully erect now, and Mahiro felt the sensation of Kouki’s hardness caressing his as his hips pumped, as those hands rubbed and squeezed and released his ass, sliding over the curve, exploring it.

Kouki let go for just a moment, and Mahiro heard a slight squish noise somewhere in the delicious symphony of both men moaning louder, their breathing getting heavier. “Tell me if you like this,” Kouki murmured.

Then, Mahiro felt something pressing against his entrance, circling it gently, pushing in a little, then pulling out, then in again. He shuddered, moaned and thrust harder and faster. Fuck . . . fuck, it was his finger, it was pushing into him fully, penetrating him, and it was so goddamn exciting!

“Yes!” Mahiro cried. “Fuck, yes, more . . .”

His hips thrust faster, grinding against Kouki harder, and the finger within him moved faster as well, pushing deeper . . . and then there was a second digit along the first, stretching Mahiro a little so there was a bit of pain . . . but it was replaced by even more intense pleasure.

He was pushing forward toward the magnificent cock, backward on those fingers, fucking himself on them, feeling them stroke pleasure spots that made his whole body tremble. It was so, so delicious to be filled, to have Kouki caress him from the inside.

Kouki was writhing under him, his hips moving along with Mahiro’s thrusts, and this time, he was the first to arch upward, letting out a long, loud cry. The fingers drove deeper into Mahiro, hitting a very sweet spot, and he cried out as well, the climax that wracked him at least as intense as the first, his come pouring into Kouki’s body.

He collapsed on top of his lover, and they kissed again. “Oh, my God,” Mahiro murmured.

“You liked being finger-fucked, didn’t you?” Kouki said.

“I loved it,” Mahiro said, snuggling against him, watching Kouki reach for the wipes again to clean off his fingers and both their stomachs. “It was . . . unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”

“This is what we’re doing,” Kouki said. “Finding out what you like. And I’m happy to do it, because you have a goddamn hot ass.” He reached over and squeezed it. “I have a lot of ideas of what to do with it.”

“Anything you want,” Mahiro murmured. He meant it. “I may need a nap first, though. Two orgasms in a row, it . . .”

“I know what you mean.” Kouki kissed him. “Sleep. I think I’m doing the same thing. And remember, we have a whole weekend, a whole apartment, and endless possibilities.”

Mahiro snuggled against him. He was definitely glad of that. And he was going to explore as many possibilities as he could.

* * *

It was eight in the evening, or maybe it was nine. Mahiro didn’t know, didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact that he was kneeling on the living room carpet, his lips wrapped around Kouki’s erection, sucking hard and sliding down on it.

He moaned in pleasure as it slipped through his lips and over his tongue, flooding him with sensation, scent and taste. One hand moved up his lover’s torso to tease a nipple, and he heard a loud moan in response – which just made Mahiro suck harder and move faster.

“More, so good . . .” Kouki murmured, as his hands played with Mahiro’s hair, and Mahiro thrust down hard, taking Kouki in so deep he was almost choking, but he loved it – it was the same kind of dangerous thrill as when he was on the motorcycle, the tiny bit of fear enhancing the pleasure.

He heard his lover’s breathing get more rapid, felt the hand in his hair start to tug, and Kouki murmured, “Close . . . I’m close, oh, God . . .”

Then, Mahiro flicked his tongue against the base of the head on an outstroke, and Kouki let out a ragged cry, his whole body tensing. There was a moment of panic on Mahiro’s part – try to swallow or spit it out? – and he jerked his head backward.

The result was Kouki’s come splattering onto his face, and Mahiro licked at it, the taste as exciting as it had been before. He moved up so he could kiss the other man, and Kouki pulled him in, eagerly.

“Looks like I made a mess,” the taller man said, tenderly, reaching for the nearby box of tissues. He cleaned Mahiro off, then kissed him again. “That was amazing, by the way.”

“I wanted it to be as good for you as when you did it to me,” Mahiro said, snuggling against Kouki and resting his head on his chest. “You were breathtaking.”

“Mmm, that’s because you’re so delicious.” Kouki wrapped his arms around Mahiro and squeezed him tightly. “Speaking of which, we should eat something. We’ve been playing for hours now.”

“I don’t know if I want to . . .”

“You don’t have to get dressed,” Kouki said. “We’ll call Pizza-la. We can order from then until 10, and it’s . . .” He turned his head toward the clock on the opposite wall. “Whoa, 9:30. We were at it even longer than I thought. We should get a move on.”

He got up and went into the bedroom, Mahiro watching him move. Naked, he seemed to move with the grace of a cat. It was almost enough to make him aroused again – and he’d already been brought to ecstasy several times already, the two men resting just long enough to recover from each bout, then going at it again.

“Here,” Kouki said, handing his phone to Mahiro. “Here’s the menu. Any preferences?”

As soon as he saw the pictures and descriptions of food, Mahiro realized he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast – and, until now, didn’t care. He ended up ordering a New Yorker pizza, plus orders of chicken nuggets and fries for them to split.

After he placed the order, Kouki said, “We’ll have to get dressed in the yukatas when they come, of course. Can’t answer the door naked, though I’m sure the sight of you would turn even a straight guy on. Of course, at this point, we need showers – one at a time, or we’ll be tempted again. Though I’ll probably end up making you come in the shower at some point during the weekend anyway.”

“Kouki,” Mahiro said, snuggling against him again, “is it always like this? This wild and hot and intense?”

“You mean with two guys?” Kouki said. “Depends on who you’re with, I suppose. I’ll tell you one thing – I don’t think I’ve gone at it with anyone else as many times in a row as I have with you. You’re irresistible.”

“I want to go at it more,” Mahiro said. “A lot more.”

“Eat first,” Kouki said. “Get your strength back. And we need to sleep some at one point, too. But . . .” He kissed him again. “We’ll make the most of our time together, don’t worry.” 

Mahiro squeezed Kouki’s hand and went toward the bathroom to take his shower, feeling like he was floating on air. They were only about six hours into it, and already it was the best weekend of his life.

* * *

By Saturday evening, Mahiro was feeling wrapped in a cocoon of bliss he never wanted to escape from.

They’d slept after having their pizza and such on Friday, only to wake up, brush their teeth – and then immediately go at it on the bed again. They spent most of the day thoroughly exploring each other with hands and lips and tongues, each climax as intense as the one before.

Around five in the evening, they decided that maybe they should actually go out for awhile. They ended up in a casual famiresu, where they started their meal with a plate of gyoza. Since they had a secluded booth in the back of the restaurant, they fed the dumplings to each other when they were sure no one was looking.

They stopped at a conbini on the way home to grab a bottle of sake, but it got left on the kitchen table, because they went straight back to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. They tumbled to the mattress clinging to each other as if they hadn’t touched one another in years instead of hours, kissing hotly.

When they eased apart from one another, Mahiro said, “Kouki . . . I want you inside me.”

Kouki leaned back. “You mean, you want me to fuck you?”

Mahiro nodded.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. A lot of gay and bi guys go their whole lives without doing that, and it’s not for everyone. Besides . . . I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want to try, at least,” Mahiro said. “I won’t know until I do, right?”

“Okay,” Kouki said. “But if you want to stop at any point – let me know, all right? And I will.”

He rolled over and reached for the nighttable, getting out the lube he’d used before to penetrate Mahiro with his fingers. Leaning over, he kissed his lover’s neck, running his tongue along it. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees by the foot of the bed . . . where you can see the mirror.”

“Mirror?” Mahiro had forgotten it was there. But sure enough, when he got in the requested position, he could see himself, and Kouki kneeling behind him, running his hands along Mahiro’s ass, caressing it gently.

“You really do have a hot bottom,” Kouki said, gently parting the cheeks and running his fingers along the cleft. “It’s going to be a pleasure for me to be inside it.”

Mahiro shuddered, deeply, anticipating the unknown sensations to come. He felt one lubed finger circling his entrance, and he parted his legs wider, inviting the welcome invasion.

“We know you like this,” Kouki said as the finger slid inside him, and Mahiro let out a moan. “Just breathe deeply and relax . . .

Mahiro felt the delicious sensation of the thing moving in and out, stroking him from the inside. Oh, God, how many men never knew this pleasure? And how could he go without it from now on? No, he wasn’t going to think about the future, there was only here and now, only him and Kouki . . .

And then all conscious thought was obliterated by a second finger entering him, the two of them moving together, curving a little to caress different hot spots. Mahiro let out a loud moan, losing himself entirely in the sensation . . .

A third finger pushed in, and Mahiro gasped. This was new – and it wasn’t entirely pleasant. He was starting to feel like he was being stretched, severely.

Kouki stopped. “Are you okay?” he said.

Mahiro nodded. Of course – he was being opened up before Kouki could take him. He didn’t think it would feel this – severe, though. He briefly considered stopping, but . . . he still wanted to know what it felt like to have his lover’s cock in him. And to have that, he’d have to have this.

“Keep going,” he told Kouki.

So Kouki moved the fingers in and out, slowly and gently, and the pain began to fade, replaced with the same kind of warm pleasure he’d experienced before – only more intense. Mahiro suddenly gripped the bedding under him, letting out a long, low sound.

“Good?” Kouki said.

“Y-yes . . .”

“Do you still want me to take you?”

“Please . . . please, I want to feel it . . .”

Kouki slid his fingers out, wiped them off, and Mahiro was left breathless, watching the mirror as the taller man tore a condom packet open, rolling on the contents. He felt more lube being poured into his cleft, then watched Kouki slick himself . . .

A hardness pressed against his opening as Kouki gripped his hips. “Remember, if you want me to stop at any point . . .”

“I know,” Mahiro said, breathlessly. “Do it.”

Kouki pressed forward – and Mahiro sucked in a long breath. If the three fingers had brought initial discomfort, this was, well . . . like being torn in two. He bit his lip. Is this what Kouki had meant by this not being for everyone? Was he not going to be able to do this?

He gripped the bedding again and breathed deeply. Relax, he told himself. Have to relax. It should get better – right?

“Mahiro?” Kouki said.

“Just . . . just keep going,” Mahiro said. “Please.”

Kouki began to move, very slowly and carefully, pushing in more, then pausing, letting Mahiro get used to the feel of being penetrated. Mahiro kept up the deep breathing, and felt himself relax more, the pain and over-stretched feeling starting to fade a little . . .

Then, as Kouki began a very slow thrust, it faded more, and more still. Pleasure was starting to creep in – little tendrils at first, among the pain, then getting stronger, sweeter . . .

Mahiro looked up at the mirror. He saw Kouki behind him, torso starting to glisten with sweat, hands moving over Mahiro’s back, hips flexing as he pulled out, then pushed in again. The sight of it was making the pleasure even more intense, until it outweighed the pain, then took over entirely.

Soon, Mahiro was letting out a moan of delicious sensation, and saying, “More.” Kouki obliged, speeding up little by little, Mahiro watching him in the mirror, each motion of the blond’s hips accompanied by a fresh wave of sensations inside him.

Oh, yes, this is what it was like to be fucked, to be taken – the solidness of the man inside him, the stroking and stroking against all his nerve endings, the sight of Kouki in the mirror, face a mask of more and more bliss as he moved faster and started to penetrate deeper.

Mahiro began to thrust back against him, moving on that cock, moaning, “Fuck me, yes, fuck me . . .” He couldn’t get enough, every movement more delicious than the one before, every thrust filling him completely, and then there was the sight of Kouki as he moved with wild abandon, his whole body glistening with sweat now, his moans and gasps as loud as Mahiro’s own . . .

Then, there was a hard thrust against a spot that made stars explode behind Mahiro’s eyes. “OH!” he cried. “OH, FUCK . . .” He felt Kouki thrust against it again, and suddenly, he screamed, an explosion of ecstasy more intense than any before wracking his entire body as he came in long, intense waves.

He sagged to the bed, feeling Kouki thrust into him hard again and again and again, before his lover let out a long cry of his own, collapsing atop Mahiro, clinging to him.

Mahiro just lay under him, panting and trembling, basking in an intense afterglow. In this moment, he felt like he belonged to this man completely, and Kouki belonged completely to him.

Kouki slid out and reached for the wipes to clean both of them off, and then they turned so they were facing each other, kissing tenderly.

“Kouki . . .” Mahiro just clung to him. He was beyond words right now.

“I know.” Kouki kissed the top of his head, and they just lay, embracing, communicating silently.

After a long moment, Kouki said, “We won’t be able to do that again right away. You’re going to be a bit sore.”

“It’s all right,” Mahiro said. “I . . . I know what it’s like, now. Thank you – for all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me for something I’ve wanted with all my heart,” Kouki said.

They snuggled together, drifting off to sleep, and Mahiro knew he’d experienced true bliss for the first time in his life.

* * *

Coming home from that weekend was the hardest thing Mahiro had ever done.

He’d heard the expression before that someone was “a changed man.” He’d never questioned before how that could be possible. You were who you were, right? How could you change overnight?

Except Mahiro had, indeed, changed. He walked into his family’s grand manor, and it felt like a skin he’d outgrown. The mannered way of going about everyday life felt like a charade, a ruse, a downright lie.

And then, there was Tokiko. He was supposed to go out with her the night he got home. As soon as he saw her, all he felt was . . . cold. Like everything inside him had turned to ice. There was no longer any hope of his learning to love her, like his parents had promised.

How could that be possible, when his heart already belonged to someone else?

I can’t feel like this, he thought. I have to get back to the place where I was before. I’m a member of the Clan of Isshi, I have to uphold his legacy. I have to make my family proud. I need to be a good husband to Tokiko and a good father to our eventual children, and that’s that.

Once he was back in his bedroom in the evening, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep at first. What did his future hold? He wished he knew. It used to be so cut and dried, and now . . . it was a question mark.

Can I be the person I need to be? he thought. Can I uphold my family’s legacy now? And what will happen to me if I don’t?

He slipped down into sleep eventually . . . and began to dream of walking through a wood, the same wood where he and Kouki had gone motorcycle riding on their first date. (Was it really fair to think of it as dating? But if it wasn’t that . . . what was it?)

Eventually, he came to an old-style house – the kind of dwellings people lived in way, way back in the country’s history. There was a koi pond in front of it, and a man standing over it, gazing down at the fish. He was dressed in a formal kimono that matched the era of the home.

The man looked up as he saw Mahiro approach. “You did come,” he said. “I was wondering.”

“You were expecting me?” Mahiro said.

“Of course I was,” said the man. “Given the turmoil in your heart, I was sure I’d see you sooner or later. That’s happened a lot to those of my line. I give them advice. Most of them don’t take it.”

“What do you mean, those of your line?” Mahiro said. “Does that mean that you’re . . .” He looked at the man again – and something clicked in his head. He knew that face. He’d seen it on old paintings that hung around the house.

“Isshi?” he said.

The man bowed low. “At your service,” he said. “And you are Mahiro.”

“I’m confused, is what I am,” Mahiro said. “I want to live up to your legacy, but . . .”

“But something got in the way?”

Mahiro nodded. “I met someone who changed my life. He showed me what it feels like to try new things and follow my heart and, well, really live. And it’s felt so good, and so exciting, but . . .” He sighed. “People like us, we can’t do that sort of thing, we have to be . . . aristocrats.”

Isshi looked perplexed. “Why can’t you do that sort of thing?”

“Because of you!” Mahiro said. “Because you lived a life of strength and dignity and honor, and we’re all expected to follow your example. Live the way our parents and peers expect us to, marry someone suitable . . .”

Isshi suddenly laughed. “Do you really believe all that?”

Mahiro looked surprised. “What . . . what do you mean?”

“Do you really think I spent my whole life being dignified and playing by rules? No. I followed my heart. I did what I truly wanted to do. Yes, I established businesses and fought in wars and was honored by the Emperor – but that’s because I wanted to, not because anyone forced me to. And if I wanted to get drunk and have a good time? I got drunk and had a good time.”

Mahiro blinked. “Really? You . . . you got drunk and . . .”

“Played games, got in fights, bedded who took my fancy – as long as I took the person’s fancy as well. And I did marry a woman of noble birth – but that was by mutual agreement. We chose each other. There was no arranged marriage involved.” He paused. “I can’t believe how many of my descendants have gotten that wrong. It makes me sad. Does my family WANT to be unhappy?”

“I . . . I can’t believe it,” Mahiro said. “I was always told you were a man of the highest principles, strong and dignified . . .”

“You can be strong, dignified, have high principles and enjoy life,” Isshi said. “Tell me, the person you were talking about – what are your feelings toward him, or her?”

“It’s a he,” Mahiro said. “And . . . I love him. Very much so. This past weekend, we went away together, and we made love, repeatedly – and it was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I was so, so close to him in body and mind . . .”

“And the person you’re engaged to?”

Mahiro looked down. “I like her. I care for her, on some level. But . . .” He swallowed hard. “I can’t feel for her what I feel for him.”

“You know where your heart is?”

Mahiro nodded.

“Then follow it. Follow your heart, like I did. That’s how you emulate me.”

“But my family won’t believe what you said! If I don’t go through with it, I’ll be . . .”

“Disowned?” Isshi said. “What’s better, to live a warm and honest life without piles of money, or to be rich and powerful and live a constant, cold lie? Think about it, Mahiro. Remember who I am . . . and who you are.”

He turned around and started toward the house. “Wait!” Mahiro said. “I need to ask you about . . .”

With a gasp, Mahiro sat up in his bed. A dream, he thought. All a dream. He sat up, hugging his knees to him.

Is it all true? He thought. Was I visited by my ancestor in my dream? If so, what he said . . . is that really true? Did he really follow his heart – the way Kouki has been getting me to do?

He rubbed his head. Had his entire family been living a lie all these years – and he was the only one who had learned the truth?

* * *

The next few weeks, he lived a double life.

In the daytime, he met with Kouki every day. They’d do fun things together like they always had – and whenever they could, snuck off to a love hotel or, when it was available, his friend’s apartment. Every time they made love, Mahiro felt more bonded to him. He didn’t know how he’d be able to give this up.

He spent evenings with his fiancée, and it was getting harder and harder to do so. She was still pleasant company – but pleasant wasn’t enough anymore. Not when he knew he’d found someone who brought him true joy of body, mind and soul.

And quite a few times, the dream of Isshi returned to him, his ancestor telling him over and over to follow his heart, to live an honest life. Is it all real? he thought. Am I really connecting with the spirit of my ancestor? Or . . . am I just deluding myself?

The last few days before the Final Commitment were torture. “I won’t be able to see you after it,” Mahiro said to Kouki. “I’ll be fully committed to her.”

“If you go through with it,” Kouki said.

“I have to,” Mahiro said. “As a member of my clan, I have no choice. But . . . I just don’t know what I’m going to do afterward. I don’t know how I’ll be able to live as a husband and father. I . . . I want to see you again. Could we find a way? Please?”

Kouki sighed. “Mahiro, what have I been trying to teach you all along? There’s more to your life than your clan and your ancestor. If it wasn’t for Isshi . . .”

“I’ve seen him,” Mahiro said.

Kouki looked startled. “You – have?”

“In my dreams. He keeps showing up in my dreams . . .”

When he told Kouki the details, his lover said, “Maybe you need to follow the advice, then.”

“But what if it’s not real? What if it’s just me saying that to myself?”

Kouki stroked his hair. “Then . . . you have to follow it all the more, don’t you?”

When they said goodbye on the last day, Mahiro clung to Kouki, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “I’ll cherish our time together as long as I live,” he said. “And I’ll never forget it. Not a single moment.”

“Neither will I,” Kouki said. “But, Mahiro . . . think. Think about what I’ve told you. What your dreams have told you. And then, if you feel like you still have to go through with this, I’ll stand behind you. But if you leave . . . I’ll be there for you. No matter what happens.”

“I know,” Mahiro said.

He squeezed the other man’s hand, then walked away, quickly, not looking back, heading toward a future plotted out for him by everyone but himself.

At least, he thought, I’ve known happiness for awhile. Not everyone in my family can say that.

* * *

Mahiro stood in the dressing area at the side of the Great Hall – a huge room, modeled after a Western cathedral, within his city’s government complex. It was the place where aristocratic families held all their important ceremonies – betrothals, Final Commitments, weddings and funerals. He’d stood there many years ago, in his formal kimono, to be initially sealed to Tokiko. And now, he was here again, in hakama this time, for the last step before their wedding.

His father entered the room. “You look wonderful, Mahiro,” he said. “Just like I knew you would on this day. It’s one of the most important, you know.” He clapped his son on the back. “Final Commitment is when a boy officially takes his place among the men of his family.”

It doesn’t feel important, Mahiro thought, looking at himself in the mirror. It feels like a death sentence. He took a deep breath. He had to get hold of himself. He’d had his fun – now, it was time to face reality.

“Were you happy, Father?” he said. “When you had your ceremony, I mean?”

“Of course, I was,” his father said. “I knew I was going forth into the world with purpose. I was going to marry your mother and build a life together – and that I was going to be a respectable aristocrat.” He patted his son’s shoulder. “You’re probably feeling butterflies. You’ll be fine. You’re the kind of person Isshi himself would be proud of.”

Am I? Mahiro thought. And if I am, am I the kind of person the real Isshi would be proud of? Or the Isshi you like to think about? Is the Isshi in my dreams actually real?

He sighed as he watched his father leave. The procedure was that when the music – played on traditional instruments – started playing, he and Tokiko would walk toward each other from opposite sides of the hall, then approach the podium where the officiant would be waiting. They would repeat a set of vows – shorter than a wedding ceremony – and then promise to be back in a year’s time to be fully married.

It seemed like forever until the first notes were struck. When they were, it sounded like a funeral dirge to him. He walked forward, steadily, watching his bride-to-be approaching him. He felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him – family and friends.

They all expect me to be the perfect aristocrat, he thought. Can I live up to their expectations?

The two of them approached the officiant, who held his hands over their heads and chanted a blessing. Mahiro tried to listen, tried to concentrate . . .

All he could hear was the voice of the dream-Isshi in his head, saying, “Follow your heart.”

I can’t, he told the spirit of his ancestor. Not with my place in this family. I want to. I want to with everything I have, but . . .

“Tokiko,” the officiant said, “will you repeat after me?”

Mahiro heard her reciting the time-honored words, vowing to give him all her love and build a family with him that would uphold tradition. They sounded hollow. Of course they were – there was no REAL feeling behind them, was there? Only obligation. No affection.

Not like when Kouki spoke to him . . .

Dammit, Mahiro thought. I can’t think of him now! I can’t! It’ll ruin this! And my whole life has been leading up to . . . to what? To this? To a lie? Can I live a lie? Can I . . .

The officiant was saying, “Mahiro, will you repeat after me?”

And before Mahiro knew it, he was opening his mouth and a sound was launching from it – a sound from the bottom of his soul. It was a loud, ringing cry of, “NO!”

The room fell deathly silent. Oh, God, he thought, what did I just do? He looked around, panicking. He saw stunned faces, his aunt covering her mouth with both hands in disbelief, his father looking like he’d been hit in the face with a baseball bat.

And a voice in the back of his head, the voice of Isshi, whispered, “You did what you had to do. You followed your heart. Keep following it.”

“No,” Mahiro announced to the room. “I’m sorry. I can’t go through with this.”

“Mahiro!” His father leapt to his feet. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I can’t live a lie,” Mahiro said. “This isn’t what I want. This isn’t who I am. It wouldn’t be fair to me to do this – and it wouldn’t be fair to Tokiko, either. She deserves a husband who can give her true love.”

Tokiko just stared at him, gasping. “Mahiro . . . Mahiro, what’s gotten into you?”

He leaned over and whispered, “I’m sorry. But . . . it really isn’t fair to either of us. I’ve thought it over, and this is for the best.”

“But . . . we’d planned to have a family, and . . .”

“Tokiko, can you honestly say that you love me? That I’m the one you’d choose if you could?”

She paused and looked away. “No,” she whispered.

“Is there anyone you WOULD choose?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a bartender in the place I like to go to in the afternoons. He and I, well . . . we’ve bonded. I would take it deeper, if only . . .”

“TOKIKO!” her father shouted. “What are you saying to him?”

“Go to this bartender,” Mahiro whispered. “Tell him how you feel. Bring him into your life. You deserve to be with him.”

“YOU BASTARD!” Tokiko’s father stormed over toward Mahiro. “You’re breaking my daughter’s heart!”

“No, Father,” Tokiko said. “Mahiro is right. Neither of us really want this. We both want to live our own lives.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want it?” her father shouted. “You’ve courted for years! Haven’t you grown to love each other?”

“With all due respect, sir,” Mahiro said, “there is only one person in the world that I love.” He paused. “And his name is Hanamizakura Kouki.”

There was a huge gasp around the room. His aunt sagged against his mother in a near-faint. Someone shouted, “A MAN?” Another person yelled, “Those RUFFIANS?”

Mahiro’s father stormed up to him. “I cannot BELIEVE this!” he shouted. “Is this some kind of insane joke? What are you pulling, Mahiro?”

“It’s not a joke, Father,” Mahiro said. “It’s what’s in my heart. It’s what I have to do.”

“Abandoning your fiancée for a man? A member of a family’s that’s lower than the dust, yet? You are a DISGRACE TO THE LINE OF ISSHI!” his father raged.

“Do you know Isshi, Father?” Mahiro said. “Have you ever seen him?”

“Of course not!” the father said. “He’s an ancestor! How could you know that . . .”

“Then how do you know what he was like?” Mahiro said. “Really like? He might have followed his heart, too.”

“YOU ARE DISOWNED!” his father shouted. “YOU ARE NO LONGER PART OF OUR CLAN! GO! GO FROM HERE! MAKE A LIFE AS A COMMONER! WE’LL SEE HOW YOU FOLLOW YOUR HEART WHEN YOU HAVE TO WORK FOR A LIVING!”

Mahiro turned, head held high, and started to walk out of the room, rapidly. The crowd was still standing there in place, stunned, unable to believe what they had just seen.

No aristocrat, ever, had turned down an arranged-marriage fiancée and walked out of Final Commitment before.

And if all of them were being a hundred percent honest, they would have to say they were very envious of Mahiro right now, and they wished they’d had the guts to do the same thing.

* * *

When he stepped out of the Great Hall and into the twilight, he breathed a huge lungful of air. It was a strange, surreal moment. He was facing an uncertain future, to say the least. But . . . he was also free. Really, truly free of a burden he’d carried for years without knowing it was there.

That is, until Kouki pointed it out to him.

As he stood there, wondering where to go and what was next, the sound of a motorcycle engine interrupted his thoughts. He turned around – and there was the one person he most wanted to see in the world, driving up slowly.

“I was hoping to see you out here,” Kouki said, casually.

“I was hoping to see you out here, too,” Mahiro said.

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I don’t know where I’m going to go now. But . . . I’m relieved.”

Kouki tossed him a helmet. “I’ll tell you where you’re going to go. You’re climbing on the back of my bike and we’re going to my family’s estate. I’ve already spoken to my parents. They’re taking you in.”

“They . . . they are?”

“Yes. You’re considered an indirect member of our clan now – for as long as you want to be. Even if it’s forever.”

“But . . . but if you and I don’t . . .you know, in the long run . . .” He didn’t even want to think about their relationship ending – it was everything to him now – but he also knew that people’s needs changed over time, and their relationship might change along with it.

“They’ll still consider you one of us,” Kouki said. “We don’t disown – unlike some people. Now, hop on! I can’t wait to introduce you to my parents and brothers! We’ve already got a welcoming party planned for you. And then, after that? We’ll go to my apartments and lock the doors and I’m going to make you moan every way I know how – and then some.”

Mahiro suddenly pulled the other man into his arms and kissed him tenderly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” Kouki said. He paused. “You never said that to me before.”

“I just announced it to that whole room.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Great Hall. He could hear yelling inside – apparently, his family members were fighting over whether he should be fully disowned or not.

He didn’t care. That wasn’t part of him anymore. It was his past. He was headed for his future.

“You told them all you love me?” Kouki said.

Mahiro chuckled and kissed Kouki’s jawline. “Sorry you’re the last to know,” he said.

“That’s okay,” said Kouki. “You saved the best for last.”

Mahiro began to put the helmet on his head. “There’s one more person I want you to introduce me to,” he said.

“Who’s that?”

“Your friend Reika. The one who played the prank that started all this. I have him to thank for all this – including you.” He paused, and added, softly, “Especially you.”

He climbed on the back of Kouki’s motorcycle – the same place where this had all began, and wrapped his arms around his beloved’s waist, holding on tightly as they roared off together to a new and bright future.


End file.
